HOME
DV NEWS
SERVICE ARCHIVE SUBMISSIONS/CONTACT ABOUT DV
The
Twisted Logic of Mothers Who Abandon Mothering
by
Barbara Sumner Burstyn
October
13, 2003
Today
as I write, 19 people have died in Haifa at the hands of yet another suicide
terrorist. This time the terrorist was a woman. The pride of her family, she
was about to become a lawyer. But instead of grief at the loss of such a
promising person, her family is ecstatic.
"We
are receiving congratulations from people," said her brother. "Why
should we cry? It is like her wedding today, the happiest day for her."
A
year ago, our media were filled with images of Naima el-Abed, a Palestinian
mother who sent her son to carry out a suicide terrorist attack. In all the
images she is beaming.
"I
agreed that he become a suicide bomber to encourage other mothers," she
said. On the Hamas website she proudly detailed the support and encouragement
she gave her son and described how, as a mother, his act was a source of great
pride.
There
is much I don't understand about the Middle East conflict or the seeds of
religious intolerance that drive it. But I do know about mothering. In that
area I am an expert. A year ago as I tried to understand her comments, I was
filled with a mother's questions. And now I want to ask them.
I
want to know, Naima el-Abed, if you remember when your son was born? Did you
look at his perfection with a sense of wonder?
I
remember that time, when even the exquisite design of my daughter's soft pale
fingernail was enough to bring me to tears.
But
along with that, something else blossomed, as if it were an integral part of
the birth process. Fear. Fear that I might not be up to this responsibility and
the enormity of the task of protecting her.
And,
like all new parents, I knew at that moment the value of human life, the
fragility and vulnerably that is concealed beneath new-born perfection. And I
knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it came to it, I would lay down my
life for this life I had created.
How
do you go from that to supporting your child's suicide? I try to imagine the
mental steps and I just can't do it. Instead, I wonder at the belief that has
wormed its way into your Palestinian motherhood, a belief that seems to have
destroyed the fierce and ancient desire to protect your child.
I
understand Naima, that the world I come from is cloistered, secluded from the
daily terrors of your war zone. From this perspective I cannot hope to
comprehend the complexities of your mothering in the Middle East.
I
know, from reading your interview, that you believe your son is now in the
company of virgins and that he is happy. I want to believe that you believe
this. But then I know how the will to live is the most powerful force in the
universe and I think about the money you have been paid, for the life of your
son, and I weep for how twisted your mothering has become.
One
thing I do know about parenting, Naima, one thing we both know: children want
to please their parents. Was your son forfeiting his life to enrich his family
and to please you?
Do
you ever wonder if, deep down inside himself, he nurtured a hope of life,
perhaps buried beneath the hatred your society fanned in him, but still a hope,
of even a sliver of the years granted to you?
So
what is it, Naima, that drives the mothers of your country to glorify the
destruction of their children and of the nation they oppose?
In
my quest for understanding I have read many articles explaining the conflict in
the Middle East and specifically the cult of terrorist suicide bombings.
Almost
all rationalize it in terms of the desperation of the Palestinian people. This
I understand. Desperation is universal. I see it etched on the faces of your
people.
But
this same condition also drove those who became the citizens of Israel to find
a place of safety from the atrocities committed against them. It drove the
grandmothers of my country to give up their sons in World War II.
But
after that war when the flower of an entire generation did not come home, our grandmothers
did not rejoice. They did not ululate at the knowledge that their boys had died
and possibly killed another mother's son in the process. They wept with
sadness, not joy at the decimation of their children.
A
year ago, I watched Naima el-Abed carefully, looking for some sign of grief at
the loss of her son. Instead I saw something far more chilling. I saw her
pleasure. As if the death of this boy was a victory.
At
the time, I wanted to reach out to her, across the expanse of our differences and
say to her that while we were strangers, a Palestinian and a New Zealander, we
had one thing in common. We were both mothers.
But
now I understand that this word, this act as natural as breathing, is not a
universal one.
In
a world where even animals instinctively protect their young, I know I will
never understand the mother who encourages her child to suicide, who views her
son as a legitimate weapon of war.
As
I write this, I am again in tears. For the children yes, but also for the
mothers who send them out to die, for the mothers who have abandoned mothering.
Barbara Sumner
Burstyn is a freelance writer who commutes between Montreal, Quebec and
The Hawkes Bay in New Zealand. She writes a weekly column for the New Zealand
Herald (www.nzherald.co.nz), and has
contributed to a wide range of media. She can be reached at: barb@sumnerburstyn.com. Visit her
website to read more of her work: http://www.sumnerburstyn.com/.
* We
Really are Living on the Dark Side of the Moon
* Viagra
for Girls: Medical Light Bulbs Can't Switch off Relationship Woes
* No Room
on the Balance Sheet for Truth or Humanity
* Working
to Live has Been Overtaken by Living to Work